


give me that adrenaline

by doomdxys



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of binding and packing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Reader, male reader - Freeform, this is self indulgent af, trans author, typical names for afab genitals are used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 03:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17841635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomdxys/pseuds/doomdxys
Summary: Horses neigh loudly next to you—John’s lips distractingly on your neck and his teeth burying his intent deep into your skin. The job seemed to fall to the back of your mind.Or: You and John have been send out on a job that involves a hide-out in a stable for a short while, and being cooped up in a camp with little privacy leads to different ideas.





	give me that adrenaline

**Author's Note:**

> Quick notes to not confuse people too much: 
> 
> — Supporter is another word for jock strap (fictional liberty was used to drag the term to 1899. and more liberty to use it as a way to pack). Drawers are shorts-like underwear.  
> — There are minor mentions of binding, and major mentions of packing.  
> — Typical names for AFAB genitals will be used, just in case it might be a dysphoria trigger for anyone.
> 
> Sorry for any and all mistakes, and apologies if stuff seems a bit weird I've not really written x reader before. If you enjoy, please leave a comment <3

The stable is filled with noise—horses, stable hands finishing off a deal at the open barn door, the yelling from the workers outside coming in through the thin walls. You can’t figure out how you haven’t lost your head yet in all the commotion, though you can’t entirely be sure you haven’t lost it as John nibbles at your collarbone, having forgotten the job at hand as he presses you into a half-wall separating the both of you from the rest of the barn.

The bag you brought along, is abandoned on the floor, your hands slowly getting lost in John’s hair instead. There is something intangibly more intimate about the existing chance of getting caught, which pushes John more into you. The intimacy—his fingers across the bottom of your shirt,lips slowly sucking on your throat—hardly helps to try and steer John back at the job at hand.

“John—John, we have to do this job,” you whisper but your voice strains into nothingness as John pulls your shirt free, his hand disappearing under it. “We are on a schedule, we gotta—” The rest of the sentences disappears into a soft whimper as John finds that sensitive spot under your ribs, a smirk on his face.

He mumbles something having a plenty of time left, half the words disappearing into your skin, the others sounding heavy, like he has to focus to say them. His free hand finds the back of your neck and pulls you down for a kiss, instantly swallowing the moan at the back of your throat as the fingers under your shirt traveling up your ribs. His body shifts to a side, your thigh now pressing between his legs as he deepens the kiss.

Unable to speak, you merely mentally roll your eyes as you feel his erection through both of your pants. Camp was an overcrowded place—too many eyes, too many people already making noises no one wanted to hear. It led to conversations of a trip to Valentine; dinner, drinks, hotel room. It got to the both of you, especially John, who wanted anything more than a quick handjob on guard duty, and with his fingers knowing exactly where to find your weak spots, it’s very hard to not give in to his urge for a quick go at it in a stable.

John almost licks his way into your mouth, tongue slipping past your slightly chapped lips and dragging you back to the matter at hand. There’s plenty of time and minimal risk to get caught in the far back of the barn where there are no horses, you tell yourself as you shift your thigh against the bulge and elect a loud moan from John that barely gets muffled by the kiss. His fingers dig into your skin. If you hurry, you definitely have time, you convince yourself.

John is, however, his usual exploratory self, fingers running past the linnen strips across your chest. You let go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, wriggling slightly against the wall like you’re trying to get away from his wandering fingers whilst keeping the kiss going, a low moan trapped at the back of your throat.

He can’t help but smile as you basically turn into jelly against him, breaking the kiss slightly and cupping your cheek. “Yes?”

“Yes.” You let go of his hair to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “But think of the time—”

John barely listens to the rest of your answer, instantly kissing you again and his hands wandering down to your pants. You can almost hear the curses flying through his brain as he fumbles with the buttons whilst trying to remember how to keep kissing you, letting you nip at his bottom lip more than anything.

Your pants instantly sag slightly down your hips as the buttons get undone, the suspenders following swiftly, and John’s hand is down your pants faster than you can register, palming the soft bulge through your drawers and supporter.

You gasp, shifting up against the wall at the sudden pressure of your packer pressing into you. Your nails dig into John’s shoulders, teeth into his bottom lip as you try to control the volume of your moans as John slowly pushes the fabric around. You need his fingers on your skin, rather than the soft bundle of fabric filling up your pants. “John—”

He doesn’t really need more encouragement than the choked sound of his name, almost ripping the buttons of your drawers off and pushing everything down just enough to slip his hand past the packer. Then his thumb presses onto your clit in that way John knows gets to you and you can’t help but buckle your hips forwards into his fingers, trying to bury another moan in his cheek. 

He rubs slow, almost agonizingly soft circles across the sensitive spot. You whimper as he pulls his hand away as you try to grind into him, searching for more. His teeth sink into your shoulder right before he rests his forehead on it, looking down at what he’s doing.

One of your hands lets go of his shoulders and helps John’s free one in lowering your clothes even more. The packer awkwardly falls out of the supporter, slapping against your knee, but you barely get the chance to laugh at the absurdity of it as John instantly turns his other hand enough to press one finger against your entrance.

You press a kiss on the top of his ear, pushing your body against his fingers, “Yes.” And with that all the hesitation that lingered just disappears, thumb momentarily stilling as he pushes his finger inside with a kiss on your neck. The moan escaping you is loud enough to attract attention but no one comes looking and it gets easily overpowered by the one coming from John as your involuntary leg movement grinds against his erection.

One hand traveling to his scars, nails dragging slowly across them, your other travels to the bulge now grinding slowly against your thigh. You fumble one-handedly with the buttons of his suspenders, nails digging into his hip as he pushes a second finger inside without warning, palm now completely resting against your clit.

The way he pushes his fingers in and out of you, his palm grinding against you, is unbearably distracting and you bite your lower lip trying to focus on unbuttoning his pants. It takes probably way longer than it usually would, John grinding himself against your thigh and getting his small thrusts to that speed he knows will drive you insane.

Buttons undone and pants falling down to his thighs, his erection shows, and you can almost hear him grin into your shoulder as you realize he’s not wearing underwear. Maybe this idea had not been a spur of moment, you think, retaliating by running a finger across the entire length of his cock. It’s already enough to make him moan, pre-cum wetting your thumb as you circle across the tip.

He lifts his head to kiss you, pushing you back into wall and pressing his entire body against yours—mouth open, hand trapped between your bodies. His free hand hooks behind your neck to keep you close, partially to muffle both of your moans. He groans from the back of his throat as you grasp his cock. The eagerness is almost palpable.

“John—boot,” you manage to mutter, ignoring the whimper he lets out as you let go of his cock to undo the fasting on your boot. He seems confused for a few seconds and it’s your turn to whine as he removes his fingers. The boot is off quickly, followed by pants and underwear, the distance between you closed against instantly—his erection now pressing against your inner thigh.

You start pressing soft kisses on the scarred side of his face, nudging his hands downwards again. The time you have, or possibly already don’t have anymore, creeps back in your mind and you force yourself to ignore it, focusing on John’s heavy breathing instead.

He grabs your thigh and you wrap your arms back around his neck, holding him close as he forces you to put all your weight on one leg by lifting your right one slightly. There’s a small kiss on the corner of your mouth as he positions himself against you, before pushing in slowly, keeping an eye on your reaction.

You gasp, burying your face into his neck and the way he groans as he settles, his body pressed entirely against yours, has your knees going weak. His free hand dips back under your shirt—runs across the side of your torso and makes you tremble as the fingers run across a sensitive spot. Your stomach sucks in, muscles tightening in your free leg and you can feel his cock pulling out slightly.

He merely pushes more forwards, your ass now pushed against the wall. His hand slips from beneath your shirt and plants itself beside you, trying to get a balance as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in. You wriggle around, trying to get that perfect angle that you know will make him hit that sensitive spot inside you.

You kiss your way back up his neck, sucking on that certain spot behind his ear and he instantly struggles to control the volume of his breathing, grunts and moans slipping through. There’s another tentative thrust, the accompanying grunt making you moan, almost straight into his ear. He stills again, opting to bury his face in your neck before continuing.

He settles for a pretty shallow rhythm—rolling his hips more than anything, his breathing labored and heavy. You can feel the vibrations from the noises in his throat against your skin as he tries to keep quiet. Your fingers wander upwards, tangling in his hair and pulling slightly. He moans louder and fails to keep his thrusts evened out, speeding up and pushing in hard enough to make the wall creak behind you, before slowing down again.

You dig your uplifted heel into the back of his leg, toes curling into the humid air when he hits the right spot. A moan slips between your lips—loud and there’s an awkward few seconds of stillness as you both listen for anyone approaching but the stable seems empty. You laugh softly to try and break the awkwardness; more kisses on his scars. “Come on—no one being here doesn’t give us more time,” you whisper, bucking your hips against him for good measure.

“Spoilsport,” he breathes, the rhythm becoming faster as he restarts, like he suddenly remembered you do actually have a job to do, a place to be and a schedule to keep. His moans get increasingly louder with every thrust—open-mouthed and wet against your skin. It’s almost impossible to not come to the sound alone.

And then his thumb runs across your clit again and it’s all over. You can feel him speed up, his thumb just slightly off-rhythm and you grind into it. “John—” your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling his face away from your neck and into a rough kiss to muffle the moan as you cum, feeling yourself clench around his cock. There’s a grunt from him as a reply and he stills within you, only his thumb guiding you through your orgasm—toes curling and teeth sinking into his lip again.

Your legs still tremble as he pulls out and puts your lifted leg back down. One hand wrapped around his cock—slow strokes to bring himself to climax, the other arm wraps around you, a laugh breaking the kiss. It turns into another moan as you take over from his hand, picking up speed until he cums, over your hand and on your shirt. It’s an act that occupies his entire body, his muscles tensing up and his chest heaving as he comes down from it—eyes shut, mouth open as he leans on your shoulder.

“Sorry—” is the first thing he says, looking down at the mess created.

You kiss him as a reply, softly, gently. “I’m sure I can find a spare shirt later.” You pull a gun cleaning cloth from your back pocket as you try and pull your pants back up in one go, cleaning most off the mess off before handing it to John. He keeps a close eye on you as he cleans himself up as if he’s trying to make sure you don’t need help putting your outfit back together.

“Are you okay?” he asks after a short while, as you are finishing up the buttons of your suspenders and you shift awkwardly to fix your packer trying slip to a side. Seemingly unsure of how to act suddenly, he merely gestures at your chest. “I—we never really loosened anything like we usually do.”

You can’t help but laugh as you realize he’s talking about the binding, wrapping your arms around his neck, soft kisses on his scars. “I’m fine,” you reassure him, “do you really think we’d have gotten anywhere if I couldn’t breathe?”

He hums. “Yeah, true.” Awkwardly trying to get away from the conversation at hand, he smirks. “So, about that job we’re technically meant to be doing? There’s no one here we might actually steal the horse.”


End file.
